


Talk Dirty To Me

by allflavoursofkink (Iolre)



Series: Johnstrade Flavours [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Dirty Talk, Light Dom/sub, M/M, PWP, Porn, Smut, Teasing, Voice Kink, handjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-28
Updated: 2013-10-28
Packaged: 2017-12-30 17:21:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1021355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iolre/pseuds/allflavoursofkink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John's got a bit of a voice kink. Which is okay, because Lestrade likes to talk dirty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Talk Dirty To Me

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm doing something different with the pseuds - the pieces will be separate, all linked together in a series by their pairing. So there's going to be lots of drabbles, connected in a series by their pairing. This way people can find their kinks/what they want easier. Yup.
> 
> You can submit more prompts/see them/follow me [here](http://allflavoursofkink.tumblr.com). :D I take pretty much any smut-ridden, whatever prompt you want for any pairing. Fun times, yeah?

One finger circled John’s hole, teasing, careful, and John jerked as he felt a wet, warm mouth on his nipple, licking the nub before releasing it, blowing cool air across it as the finger slipped in, just the tip. “Mm, such a good little slut, John.” The finger at his hole pulled out and then pushed back in, deeper this time, and John jerked and moaned, hypersensitive after nearly a half hour of teasing. “You’re greedy for my fingers, for my cock, aren’t you? Wanton little whore.” Greg tsked and then pressed his finger the rest of the way in, curving until it slid across John’s prostate. John thrashed, whimpers of pleasure escaping his tightly-clenched mouth.

Sometimes John wished Greg didn’t talk the way he did in bed, every word shooting down to John’s groin and making him impossibly harder. It made crime scenes awkward, when Greg would phrase something a certain way, or bark an order, and John’s cock would twitch in the confines of his trousers. Not that anyone noticed, but Sherlock certainly did, and then John would have to deal with the smug smirk for the rest of the evening and really, who wanted that.

Not that he really minded, especially not when he went over to Greg’s after the resolution of a case. “Fuck, Greg,” he said feelingly, his hands clenched tightly in the bedsheets. Greg chuckled, low and throaty.

A second finger was added, slowly starting to scissor John open. “I suppose you want to know what I might do to you, hmm?” Greg chuckled, low and throaty, and John felt his cock pulse, a conditioned response. “Should I tie you down, fuck you senseless?” He punctuated his words with thrusts of his skilled fingers, and John’s hips wiggled, seeking more. Then the fingers were gone, and Greg was moving, his head down by John’s hips, his warm breath on John’s cock, sending shivers of electricity up and down John’s body.

“Could suck you off, just like this, like the little tart you are.” Teasingly Greg took just the head of John’s cock into his mouth, tongue working against the fraenulum, massaging the small bundle of nerves. John cried out.

“God, yes, Greg, please,” John whimpered, attempting to buck his prick further into the warm, talented mouth. Greg lifted his head, and John keened, a choked-off sob escaping his throat as the DI wrapped a hand around the base of his cock.

“I don’t think so. I think I’ll watch tonight.” Greg’s other arm pressed his hips down. “Someday, John, someday I’m going to tie you down, and fuck your face, fuck your pretty little face, and you can’t stop it, all you can do is take it, and I’ll come down your throat. Would you like that?” John let out a muffled noise as his cock throbbed painfully in Greg’s grasp.

“Yes,” he rasped out, his voice thick with arousal.

Greg shifted upwards above John, laying next to him, watching him. He started to stroke John’s cock, slow and languid, just enough to take the edge off but not enough to make him come. “Tomorrow I’m going to press you against the wall, going to suck you, not enough to make you come, just enough to get you close, to the edge.” John’s eyes closed, and Greg’s hand stopped. Slowly John’s eyes fluttered open, meeting Greg’s, a sliver of colour around the wide-blown pupil.

The moment their eyes connected Greg started again, his hand teasingly slow at times, hard at others, and John whimpered. “Then I’ll take you to bed. You like my bed, you little tart. I can push you down, and eat your arse, use my tongue to get your tight little arse ready for my cock.” It was intoxicating, the eye contact, and Greg’s face was hungry, taking in every little twitch of John’s facial expressions. It wasn’t the same as his flatmate, who was more intellectual. Greg looked - almost like he wanted to devour John, wanted to keep him and never let him go.

The strokes on his cock were getting faster, tighter, Greg massing the fraenulum with his thumb yet maintaining a rhythm. It was getting harder and harder to keep his eyes open, but he did, kept them on Greg’s face, his hips stuttering as he sought to increase friction, moans melding together until he didn’t know when one started and the other began. “You look so sexy like this,” Greg told him, low and seductive. “Once your arse is ready for my cock, I’ll press in - fast and quick, just like you like it. You like being used, cheap and dirty, like the little slut you are.” John groaned and felt the orgasm starting to gather in his belly, felt his balls start to tighten up. He was close, so close, and Greg’s speed only increased.

“I’ll get to the edge, so close to coming, and I’ll pull out, make you suck me, until I pull out and come all over your face. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? My come, all over your pretty little face.” John’s breath hitched and with that he was coming, his mind going blank, thick ropes of semen spurting up onto his belly, onto his chest.

When John came to, Greg was panting, his come mixing with John’s on his stomach. John blinked lazily, his mind foggy. “Sorry.”

Greg chuckled, pressing a kiss to his lips. “Not your fault you’re so fucking sexy like that, all wrung out and well-fucked. I couldn’t help myself.” John made a sleepy, contented noise. Greg tweaked his nose. “Don’t fall asleep on me. You’ll be a bloody bastard in the morning if you don’t take a shower.”

He allowed Greg to drag him to the shower, and it turned out to be a rather nice shower. John didn’t mind at all.


End file.
